There is, perhaps, a common perception that young people have a monopoly on text messaging. Until recently, I was sure this was the case (I run a teenage football team and am constantly blitzed with missives along the lines of, "hu R we playin 2moz?" Undecipherable at first, but repetition has made me familiar with the vernacular). But observing a pilot scheme, set in motion by police, has given me second thoughts. Oldsters, it seems are as fluent with their thumbs as teenagers.

The text message was clear and precise, informing the recipient that drug dealers had been operating on the same street all week. It went on to describe the car and the two dealers. Another message, in text teen-speak, declared a local park as unsafe because "stuff cud happen and no1 wud no".

The messages form part of a steady stream of information being relayed to police and aimed at getting the public to engage with the police using the everyday language of text. The scheme in Gorton, Manchester, was rolled out earlier this year and was directed, initially, at younger residents as part of a survey asking where and why people feel unsafe.

Seven hundred residents now have the text number, along with children from local schools, but police intend to hand out leaflets at bus stops and supermarkets in the hope of enrolling the whole community.

The project is the brainchild of Andrew Wilson, director of Thumbprint, a workers' co-operative that designs new ways to use mobile technology for public participation. He praises Gorton's neighbourhood policing team for conducting the pilot, saying it is always open to innovative ideas for tackling crime and engaging with the community it serves.

The scheme, monitored by the National Policing Improvement Agency, taps into what Wilson calls the public's familiarity with mobile phones and text messages. "They are no longer seen as technology," he says, "They are part and parcel of everyday life and people feel comfortable with them."

The messages seem to bear out his words: chatty and relaxed, and not confined to crime. Residents are encouraged to text on issues ranging from bad treatment by private landlords to poor street lighting. The police then divert the matter to the relevant agency, while monitoring the progress of the complaint. This, they believe, will persuade people to see the police as more than an arm of the law.

Inspector Damian O'Reilly who runs the policing team in Gorton says the scheme gives people, particularly youngsters, the chance "to speak to us in their own language".

Talking to some of the 1,700 pupils at Wright Robinson College, in Gorton, it seems the police may be on to a winner. Without exception, they told me they would have no qualms about contacting the police in this way.

One said that to be seen talking to a police officer ran the risk of being labelled a "grass" but texting was "safe and private". Others said they would text on issues such as bullying "straight after it happened" as they have their phones with them all the time.

The school has two Safer Schools police officers stationed permanently on site and their engagement with pupils is clearly paying dividends. All of the children I spoke with perceived the police as a force for the good, not one to be reckoned with. If the police get it right with this age group, lower crime rates are bound to follow.

Before leaving the school, my request to a 13-year-old to text the details of an imaginary crime brought this message up on the screen: "Seen sum1 set summin on fire 2 day".

Compare that with proof that the young do not have exclusive access to text messaging: one logged message on the police system begins, "Dear Sir, or Madam", with not a "U" or a "2" in sight.